Stars
by teamfreewill82
Summary: In which Alec is a renowned and very sweet male model beginning a new chapter of his life: signing on to work for a certain fashion designer in the city.
1. Alec Lightwood

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **The Mortal Instruments**_ **or anything pertaining to it except my own writing.**

 **A/N: To be honest, I love this idea. A lot. Tell me if I should attempt to continue; I can't promise that I can, but if inspiration strikes, and you guys love it, perhaps I will.**

Alec was used to the blinding light. That didn't bother him so much anymore. When he was younger than his current 22 years, the lights overhead and waiting for him at the end of the runway were daunting; he'd always been afraid that he would trip over his own feet. Odd that a man in his profession could be so clumsy. And odd that even now, ten years after being 'discovered,' Alec couldn't bear to call himself what he was–a model. It was strange to hear himself say it, so he allowed others to say it for him, for the most part.

Alec had been found at only 12 years of age, working at his mother's law office. A modeling agent had been a client of hers and, seeing the quiet young helper that was Alec, knew right away that he had the perfect everything to be the next big thing in the city. A pretty young woman with a butterfly clip in her dreads, she'd given Alec a card as though he weren't practically a kid but an adult that made his own decisions. Isabelle, his younger sister, was thrilled and insisted that he take the offer. _Who knows where you could end up?_ she'd said, shaking him by the shoulders as if to make room in his clearly fuddled brain for common sense. _On a_ billboard _somewhere!_

So he had called the woman, set up a meeting, and the next thing Alec knew, he was modeling winter jackets. Of course, he had gotten older, and only more attractive; with his cheekbones "sharp enough to cut salami," Alec was, by 17, modeling for the cover of _Elle_ and _Teen Vogue_ , being interviewed by Ellen, and wearing top designs by Marc Jacobs, John Varvatos (who Alec hadn't had any idea existed), and Hugo Boss. Practice helped him step out of his comfort zone, and he went from being the shy, closeted boy to the most sought-after, irresistible (to both guys and gals) male model in NYC. Alec was sweet–genuinely, heartbreakingly sweet–and it drew appeal. It was an incredibly fortunate bonus that he also came with his stunning and natural combination of black hair and star-bright eyes the color of sapphire gems.

Again tonight he would be walking the runway, the last gig with his current employer. Tomorrow he would be meeting his new boss, a man renowned for his insanely fantastical and gorgeous fashions. From what he had seen, Alec wasn't completely sold that he could pull off anything imagined by Magnus Bane, but his creations were the hottest thing around Manhattan. Besides, Izzy had advised that he had nothing to lose and may as well just go for it. So he had.

He returned home after the show and promptly collapsed on his bed. His family came to every show but were already asleep, the cameras and conversations with so many people having drained their energy, as they always did. Alec stared up at his ceiling, the moonlight peeking in between his curtains. He pulled them aside so the luminescence could shine into his room. The stars in the sky were bright, though the general blaze of the city tended to overshadow them. Izzy had made him put glow in the dark stars on his ceiling when they were kids to help the night sky, and now they shone down on him like the lights and real stars out his window.

He, his siblings, and his parents had stayed in the home they'd always lived in, not moving to a loft deeper in the city just because they could now afford it. Wealth didn't matter to Alec; he simply loved inspiring those that followed him. Being the first out model of his age range did wonders for not only other male or female supermodels, but for the buyers and fans that could relate to his personality and love themselves the way he loved them just for being so welcoming. It was incredible.

Tomorrow, another chapter of life would begin. Alec found he couldn't wait to see what would happen next.


	2. BANE

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **The Mortal Instruments**_ **or anything pertaining to it except my own writing.**

 **A/N: A lot of follows and favorites and a kind review have brought this to y'all. Enjoy. *smiley**

Magnus liked to be kept considerably in-the-know about most things, even if they didn't directly impact him. Sometimes he preferred a need-to-know business environment, but that was mostly for those he employed. He himself liked to have all the cards, such as who was sleeping with who that week–Currently, a designer named Lily and Emmett, the personal assistant she kept–or which models were seeking to do business with Magnus.

It was a brave soul that would sign up with him. His designs were nothing if not flamboyant, a healthy blend of Versace and D&G, and most that wore his work enjoyed it immensely. On occasion he'd take two copies: one for his own clos–Pardon, _collection_ (as he never made anything and showcased it unless he himself would wear it in public), and one for the model to keep as a gift. Being generous with not only his wealth but talent was something Magnus lived for. He didn't earn the nickname 'the High Warlock of Brooklyn' for nothing–Magnus made money and style appear out of thin air with his talents, as there was unfortunately no such beast as magic, and firmly donated his skills and money under the life motto of 'If you've got it, flaunt it.' Also, 'Leave a little sparkle wherever you go,' but no one seemed to understand that he meant it in a literal sense. And that "a little" actually meant quite a lot.

It was Friday and therefore the day he would be meeting with a new client that went by the name Alec Lightwood. Why he preferred 'Alec' to what might possibly be short for the brilliant name of Alexander, Magnus would never know. In any event, the young model would be coming to confirm the details regarding his contract with BANE. (The name of Magnus' fashion utopia was BANE. Darker a term than the business legitimately was.)

He hated sitting still, and so–as he liked to be connected to those that chose to work for him–Magnus was wandering throughout the different areas of his expansive building to visit his several designers. Each had their own room to work and brainstorm, another was dedicated to computers and sorts of tech, and yet another was a meal-eating and pick-up area for the people that ordered takeout from the well-known restaurants Taki's, the Jade Wolf, and, even more popular among the staff, Ethiopian and Italian fusion Sheba. Magnus usually managed to conjure up something for himself, rather than eat at either place, as takeout left a bad taste in his mouth (not literally) after a bad breakup some years ago. (Let's just say, allowing Chinese boxes to wither away to nothing for three days had been a regrettable mistake. His cat, Chairman Meow, had nearly died from the stench.)

It was lunchtime that he would be meeting with Alec and, his mother and agent, Maryse; Magnus was just walking past the dining area en route back to his office. It was his favorite room in the building, though he had personally designed and loved them all, because it overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge. He lived in a small, red-bricked apartment building near BANE that held a charmingly… pauper appearance. Inside, however, Magnus had tricked the loft out to fit his every need; he changed its design whenever it suited him, and had even convinced his landlord to let him renovate it when he'd first arrived to live in NYC. He could be persuasive when he wished to be, though Magnus' status as a top designer, his (generally) multi-colored hair, risqué but classy outfits, and Indonesian descent helped quite a bit.

At 12:46, precisely, the secretary buzzed up to Magnus that Alec and his mother were pacing outside the building. Their meeting was set for 1:00 so they had clearly overestimated the traffic around BANE, their arrival early. He pressed a sparkle-polished finger to the intercom.

"Send them up," he said.

At 12:50, precisely, the Lightwoods had appeared outside Magnus' office; he could see this, one, because the door was wide open, and also because the walls were made from glass.

"Hello," he said, resisting the urge to wag his fingers from where he reclined in his comfortable armchair behind his desk and instead stood up to greet them. He extended a ringed hand to Maryse, as she was in front of her son, and they shook, quick and efficient. Magnus had the distinct impression that Maryse herself was a rather quick and efficient woman in most things, her black hair tied back into a severe band and a serious expression painted on her face. He supposed she may have once been pretty, but the years had taken much of it away.

On the other hand, young Alec, beside her, was everything Magnus had been told about and more. Crystalline eyes, skin Snow White would fall envy to, and hair blacker and sleeker than a raven's feathers. It was a wonder Magnus hadn't made an effort to see him in person before this.

"Hello," Magnus repeated, specifically to Alec, as he tried to keep his voice neutral. He'd met hundreds of models throughout his career, so many beautiful people, but something about the one standing before him screamed that he wasn't like the others. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. You must be Ale–" Somewhere between finishing the address and sentence, Magnus thought that maybe using a name more personal would be allowed, for whatever insane reason that could be. "–xander."

Appearing a bit surprised, if a tad gratified, Alec nodded and accepted Magnus' proffered hand in his, white slender fingers curving around Magnus' brown ones. "Yes. I'm Alec. Nice to finally meet Magnus Bane." He released Magnus (maybe with reluctance, but the latter could be imagining things. He once knew a bloke that believed himself to be a ferret during a trip–which is utterly irrelevant. Carry on) and smiled. "I've heard great things about your work."

"And you as well," Magnus agreed amicably. He gestured to the seats before his desk in which they could take a seat, his rings glittering like the twinkle of stars, or Alec's eyes. "You've been modeling for–what? 10 years and you're only–"

"22, yeah." Alec nodded, his smile growing pleased–it seemed that Magnus had really done his research. "I got discovered at 12." He seemed modest, as though he weren't (very nearly) the most beautiful person in the room.

"That's pretty incredible. I've been designing for a few years more than that," Magnus said. He became worried for a moment that Alec or Maryse would take his statement as a sort of invite to competition, but Alec replied without hesitation.

"How old are you then?" Mortified, his mouth remained open for another second before closing abruptly. Maryse carefully edited her facial expression to appear unmoved.

But Magnus laughed. "I usually don't say, but you're clearly a special case." Alec shifted in his seat, cheeks tinting pink from either leftover embarrassment at his question or Magnus' comment. Both? "Let's go with 28," Magnus told Alec. "I'm 28 years old."

"You must have worked hard to get where you are," Maryse cut in, stopping Alec from further chagrin.

"I did. I still work hard, every day, to retain my position in this city. It's a tough business." His eyes slipped back over to Alec. "Alexander." His gaze, trained on the window, darted back over to Magnus. "Why do you want to model my designs?"

A question that Alec had been prepared for, he straightened in his chair. "I think they're incredib–"

Magnus held up a hand. "Not what you've been feeding other designers. I want to know, in your own opinion, what makes my work something you would like to wear on a runway."

Deflated, Alec was forced to take a moment to gather his thoughts. He looked around the room, taking in the sketches plastered every which way on the walls (which themselves were made into boards used to draw), the sunrays from outside glowing across them all like angelic light. He then looked back to Magnus, who had his eyebrows raised above uniquely greenish eyes and a hand playing at his mouth to cover a smile.

"All of this," Alec said, eventually, with a soft gesticulation. "I… You enjoy what you do; it's obvious from the moment we walked through the doors down the hall. Everyone is _happy_. You put your all into making things people will love, but that you love too." At Magnus' questioning glance, Alec said, "I see how you dress. You design what _you_ love, not catering to the public. And that gives them something to appreciate, too, something they never could've imagined even owning before you came out with it." Alec seemed surprised by this little soliloquy, as did Maryse, and he fiddled with his hands. But he didn't look down, regarding the man in front of him with full attention. "So, yes. I'd like to work with you."

Magnus was undoubtedly impressed. Alec, with his uncanny, sweet disposition, was definitely not like the others.

"Alright, then," Magnus found himself saying. "Let's sign those papers."


End file.
